


Hands on the Piano

by LeafZelindor



Series: Musical Bonds [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Greg has musical talent, M/M, Mycroft admires it, minor spoilers for s03e01, will become nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafZelindor/pseuds/LeafZelindor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes discovers that Gregory Lestrade can play the piano. Over several meetings the two develop a bond over this. A bond which grows into more than friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natural

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the pieces mentioned by name in this fic I play myself, either in learning stages or after the result of a lot of practice. Though I do not have Greg's made up natural talent I enjoy the piano a lot.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

Chapter 1: Natural

“You play the piano.”

The voice startled him. Slowly his fingers came to a rest on the ivory keys. He knew he shouldn't have touched it. He'd been waiting for more than 5 minutes when he spotted it in the corner. His curiosity got the better of him and he moved over to carefully press a key. He had been delighted at the ringing tone. Perfectly in tune. He then slid carefully on the well kept wooden bench and played a scale, which quickly turned into a short piece. It'd been ages since he seriously played, but the lessons and hard work came back.

“I... Yes I do. Sometimes.” He felt himself trapped by the serious eyes considering him.

“You're very good.” For a moment he couldn't believe what he'd heard. The British Government was contemplating that little bit of playing? It hadn't even been anything complicated. “One wonders why you became a Police Detective...”

“I, honestly didn't make it into the university program I wanted to get into.” Greg found himself blushing some. “So, I switched to law.”

Mycroft held his gaze a moment longer then looked at the piano. “That's a shame. I believe the world missed something. However I'm sure you're not here to discuss your piano skills.”

“Ah, no.” Quickly the Detective Inspector got up, gently pulling the key cover down over the keys he'd been stroking so gently moments before. “It's John..”

“I cannot do anything about that. Doctor Watson refuses to see me, and rightfully so.” Mycroft turned towards the fireplace now.

“There is nothing?” He felt a sigh leave him. He'd hoped at least Mycroft could get the man to snap out of it. John's new place was spartan and cold. The man himself still held hints of his warmth, but it wasn't the same.

“No, I tried to convince him to stay at Baker street.” Mycroft was considering the fire. “But he refused. I keep an eye on his finances, but he has required that I not contact him any more.”

“Ah, I won't bother you then.” Greg sighed and moved to excuse himself.

“Gregory, do you know any Chopin?” 

“A few pieces.” Greg admitted. “I might be rusty though.”

“That's all right.” Mycroft glanced at him. “If you have time, would you play?” Greg blinked at him a few times. After a moment he slowly moved back towards the piano. He'd learned on an old upright. Rarely had he chance to play on something as nice as this Bechstien. Slowly he uncovered the keys again, letting his fingers trail along the false warmth of the keys. Like old friends. He settled himself down, thinking a little before starting to play. Rusty, he made a few mistakes as he got started, but memory didn't fail him and soon he lost himself in the tone of the piano. He enjoyed the easy action of the keys, the ring of the strings. Eyes closing he let himself play. Forgetting for a few minutes that he had an audience.

Across the room Mycroft had gone from simply standing and listening to watching the other man play. The piano in question hadn't been played like this in years. He'd kept it in tune out of habit more than anything. Now he was more than happy that he had. Gregory was in his element. His fingers moved easily over the keys, he looked for a lack of better words, beautiful. Eyes closed, body moving a little with the music. The first piece blended into another. Mycroft found himself moving to sit. The man before him was very good. It wasn't just practice, there was a natural skill there he'd not seen in many. Sherlock had it for the violin. 

Gregory Lestrade was wasted as a Police Inspector. He could have been a fantastic pianist. For most of an hour he sat and listened. Enjoying the sounds that were coaxed from the piano. Savoring it.

Greg losing himself in the playing and playing until his fingers were very sore. He wasn't sure how long he'd been playing, but it'd been a very long since the last time he'd played this much. Slowly he finished the piece he was playing. He lifted his hands and flexed them some, working out a little of the built up pain. He blinked his eyes open as hands clapped to the side. Looking over he was startled to see Mycroft sitting not far away. The man quietly stopped clapping.

“That was, beautiful.” Mycroft said. The man got to his feet now and moved over, reaching out and taking one hand in his own, fingers massaging the knuckles a bit. Greg swallowed and found himself blushing at the intimate action. Mycroft worked both of his hands over gently in silence. It felt very good, his touch was gentle, but firm where it needed to be. The worst of the pain was gone. “No ring?”

Greg was startled out of his thoughts at the question. His eyes flicked to his left hand. The tan line was even starting to fade now. “Ah, divorce paperwork is processing.”

“Ah, my condolences.” Mycroft stepped back and he almost felt colder. “I should let you go.”

“Um yes.” Greg moved to get up, reaching over to pull the cover over the keys once more. He couldn't help a little smile.

“You are welcome to come over and play any time you like.” Mycroft offered. Greg looked at him quickly. It was sincere. “I enjoyed it.”

“I'll um, I'll keep that in mind.” Greg nodded briefly, then moved to hurry out. He did have things he needed to do besides play the piano. Hopefully he could clear his mind of thoughts of Mycroft's touch, and the sound of the piano if only to focus on what he needed to do now.

The second time Mycroft heard Greg's piano was in a small pub. A few weeks from the first time it was very accidental. Mycroft didn't even know why he'd stepped into this particular pub, outside of an insistent message from Anthea. However he found the moment he stepped in a riotous noise from one corner caught his attention. He knew that one could only play so ridiculously when one was good at what they did. His eyes searched out the somewhat out of tune upright, and he couldn't help smiling at the familiar shock of grey hair. Gregory was pounding away at the yellowed and chipped keys in a manner that indicated he'd had a few drinks already. Some of the other Yarders were around him singing along, the words were not all that appropriate. 

Greg finished the piece with a flourish and reached for a pint glass that was sitting on top of the upright. He downed the contents and then blinked as he spotted Mycroft across the room, clocking his head to the side he lopsidedly grinned and then started to play again. Despite Sherlock's habit of insisting more modern music was hardly worth while, Mycroft recognized the opening to “Piano man” and couldn't help a small smile of his own. Some of the other Yarders were laughing a bit and one started to sing. Greg paused to slap his hand and then began to play again, this time the words leaving his own lips. His singing voice wasn't as perfect as his piano, but it sounded wonderful.

Mycroft moved to the bar and ordered a whiskey. He may as well let the man finish the impromptu concert. Greg finished that song, and then waved off his friends before moving to the bar. He ordered another pint and glanced at Mycroft. “Not your sort of place...”

“I wouldn't say Billy Joel is your sort of piano either.” Mycroft took a sip of the whiskey. “Though you play drinking songs well enough.”

“For fun. I assure you.” Greg grinned and took a drink from his fresh pint. “Can't play the classics all the time.”

“Shame, you do it very well.” Mycroft murmured. Greg chuckled at that and downed about half of the pint in a few gulps. Mycroft had to avert his eyes, not that it helped the direction of his thoughts. He found he wanted to lick the other man's adams apple. Most inappropriate. 

“Any requests before that lot gets me playing sea shanties?” His voice brought Mycroft's attention back to him.

“Will they shoot if you play Brahms?”

“Nah. I'll tell them the toff at the bar requested it.” Greg teased, then turned, only a tiny bit wobbly and pint in hand headed back to the piano. A couple people cheered and Greg waved them off. He took another drink, put the glass next to the one he'd emptied before and cracked his knuckles. With a wink in Mycroft's direction he launched into playing Brahms Hungarian Dance. Some of the men laughed, a few looked surprised. Mycroft let himself just listen. It was lively enough for the crowd, but Greg was more than delightedly playing it for him. Something inside of Mycroft warmed at that thought. As he finished his, admittedly lackluster whiskey he let the notes wash over him. Greg finished the piece almost to slowly, he could feel the Detective watching him. Mycroft saluted him with his glass and then put it down and turned to go. He could hear someone begging for another song behind him. Greg would be busy for a while. He needed to respond to the latest message from Sherlock. It really was beyond time the man came home.


	2. Practice

Chapter 2 - Practice

The third time Mycroft heard Greg play was in a church of all places. He'd run into Greg on Christmas Eve. There had been a case the Yard had been finishing for him. The detective inspector offered to drop it off himself. Mycroft had insisted on meeting him. He'd even suggested the small church as a meeting place. Mycroft hadn't been certain why until he arrived. It was after the special service. Greg was at the piano playing “Oh Holy Night” slowly. Not a very religious man, it was one of the few traditional christmas tunes Mycroft knew the words to.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Mycroft mused softly as the piano stopped. Greg reached out and picked up the folder, offering it. Not looking at him. Mycroft moved to take it.

“Maybe I like knowing you're listening.” The Detective offered. Mycroft carefully tucked the folder in a small case.

“Then why don't you come and play for me at the house again.” Mycroft suggested. Greg still hadn't looked at him properly. “I would be happy to have you..”

“Bit much like a relationship, don't you think?” Greg said slowly. His fingers tinkled out a few notes of another carol.

“Is, there a problem with that?” Mycroft let himself ask. He hadn't been meaning to. It seemed right though. Greg blinked at the keys before glancing up at him. His eyes were curious. “Have you had dinner yet Gregory?”

“... No.” Greg said, Mycroft cocked his head to the side in question. The other man blinked, then smiled a crooked smile and got up. “Anything good at chez Mycroft?”

“Oh, a thing or two.” Mycroft smiled briefly, then turned easily and found himself feeling very pleased as the other man fell into step with him. They moved out to the waiting car. Mycroft ignored the questioning look that Anthea shot him and told the driver to head home. Greg nodded politely to her. She gave him a tight smile and focused back on her phone.

“So...” Greg paused. Mycroft chuckled. 

“It's selfish I admit. I would like you to play more for me.” Mycroft murmured. Greg blushed some and tilted his head briefly.

“What about you? Do you play?” The inspector pried.

“A bit, nothing like you do. I'm all practice perfect, and not natural.” Mycroft brushed it off. Greg considered him briefly.

“I'd like to hear, if you would.” His voice was low, hopeful. Mycroft glanced at him and then managed a smile.

“Perhaps after some wine. I have probably played even less frequently than you.” Mycroft murmured. He honestly probably hadn't played in years. Greg at least it seemed kept his fingers warm in pubs if nowhere else.

“So keep it simple. I just want to hear you play.” Greg shrugged. Anthea caught Mycroft's eye and nodded. She'd keep anything but the most dire emergency away for the rest of the night. He was forever grateful for having found this woman. She read him very well, and he found it easy to read her.

“All right. Food first though.” Mycroft murmured. Greg nodded in agreement, probably quite hungry then. He couldn't see a sign that the man had eaten since lunch time. 

Anthea stayed with the case and the car as they got out. Mycroft moved to key them into his townhouse. Greg was watching him a bit. He wasn't sure how he felt about the close scrutiny of the other man. He left his umbrella by the door, hung his greatcoat quietly. Greg shrugged out of the leather one he'd been wearing. It was well worn, and probably not something he usually wore to work. Mycroft offered to hang it up. He could feel warmth in the leather as he moved to hang it. Greg shoved his hands in his pockets and considered Mycroft for a moment. “So, food?”

“Hungry are you?” Mycroft chuckled, then moved past him to show him to the kitchen.

“A bit.” Greg admitted, moving to dig through his fridge rather quickly. Mycroft quietly moved to get out some dishes, half watching the other man as he pulled out items from the fridge. Mycroft hadn't been aware it'd been so well stocked. “Mind breakfast for dinner?”

“What do you mean?” Mycroft blinked. He always had dinner at dinner. Proper dinner, even if only one course.

“I make a mean Omelet, and you have everything in here for good ones.” Greg shrugged some. Mycroft hmmed then nodded.

“Whatever you like Greg.” Mycroft found himself saying. He settled down with a glass of scotch and watched the other man start to dice and mix and find other dishes. The mess would still be there later, but Greg appeared to be enjoying himself. A plate was slid in front of Mycroft, along with a fork. A piece of toast without jam also rested there along with the now colorfully speckled eggs. Mycroft cocked his head to the side, put down his glass and then scooped up a mouthful of the eggs. Greg hadn't gotten very fancy, but there was some bell peppers and mushrooms. The seasoning was just right, Mycroft swallowed briefly and then nodded.

“Very nice.” He murmured, eyes flicking to meet curious brown. He was rewarded with a bright smile and the other man slid around to sit next to him to polish off his own dish of eggs. They ate in silence for a bit.

“I'll do up the dishes then you can play for me.” Greg announced as he finished cleaning his plate.

“The dishes can wait.” Mycroft said quietly. Greg let an eyebrow go up but nodded briefly. “I will play for you now.” He finished his scotch a little more quickly than it deserved and then got up. He could sense the other man following him as he headed into the parlor where the piano waited. Greg could tell that the other man was, nervous. He had no reason to be. Greg flopped himself on the nice expensive sofa and let his eyes close.

“Remember, play whatever you like.” He called after Mycroft. Listening to footsteps on the carpet. They slowed slightly as the man reached the piano. He picked up the soft sound of fabric shifting. Mycroft had twisted to glance at him. Greg resisted the urge to peek at the other man. He'd chosen this position to relax Mycroft after all. There was another rustle, and then a soft noise as the Government settled himself on the bench and the soft “whhhc'ck” of the cover being lifted into the open position. The silence stretched for a long moment before the familiar tones of Pachelbel's Cannon in D started from the keys, slowly at first, like stretching a muscle. Greg smiled to himself as he listened. Mycroft didn't finish the piece. His fingers getting tangled in some of the complicated bits after a few minutes, but that was all right. Greg sat himself up to look at the other man. Mycroft had stopped playing completely and was just looking at his fingers. As quietly as he could manage Greg found himself getting up and moving to him, he didn't even pause to think before reaching over his shoulders and letting his hands slowly cover those over the keys. To his credit, Mycroft didn't jump. “That was wonderful.” Greg murmured softly, his lips just barely brushed an ear.

“It's nothing like you do...” Mycroft admitted quietly. A faint tension had entered his shoulders. Greg gave his hands a squeeze and moved to pull back.

“Budge up.” He murmured, settling on the edge of the bench, nudging with his hip. Mycroft blinked and then scooted over some, allowing Greg enough space on the bench. “I'm only this good because I keep in practice” Greg's fingers trilled out a scale. “Not real practice, just, I listen to the songs I learned.”

“You strike me as a rock and roll sort of fellow.” Mycroft tilted his head. Greg chuckled and glanced at him as he started to play something simple.

“I like it. Even was all rebellious as a kid and had a motorbike an all... But after a bad case, classical soothes.” He admitted. He transitioned the song into something a little more complicated. Mycroft itched to ask him about his rebellious stage. Instead he listened as Greg played. They sat like that for a while as Greg played several pieces in a row, shorter ones. Mycroft found himself leaning against the other man, he moved to straighten up.

“It's fine.” Greg murmured, then shifted and his arm slowly slid around Mycroft's waist. “That is, if you don't mind.”

“I was under the impression you were straight, what with the, messy divorce and all.” Mycroft settled back against him however. Greg let his arm tighten a little.

“Mm, I suppose I was under the impression I was fully straight too, before I met Sherlock, and then you.” Greg let his quietly built up affection show in the last word. He knew Mycroft picked up on it. The man shifted briefly to look at him. Greg turned his own head to examine Mycroft's face. Their lips met slowly, it was tentative. Greg could tell Mycroft wasn't used to kissing people, he turned his head just a bit more to accommodate the way Mycroft was trying to kiss him. It was briefly sweet and then they parted again.

“I, am not used to this.” Mycroft admitted softly. Greg smiled and kissed him again briefly, a gentle promise.

“It's okay.” He mused. “It's been a rather long time since I had a male lover.” He admitted. Mycroft simply nodded quietly and let himself be pulled up. It was time to let the piano rest. They found themselves settled on a sofa, in front of a fire. Somehow legs and arms twined together. Mycroft was on top of Greg. They were talking of nonsense. “It's getting late.” Greg said reluctantly as the clock in the room chimed the time softly.

“Perhaps, another time You can spend the night.” Mycroft murmured softly, moving to pull away from the Detective Inspector.

“Yes, I'd like that.” He admitted, watching Mycroft's every move. Somehow they made it to the door, a car had been paged to take Greg home. The detective inspector paused looking at the government official. Just considering him again. This was a, unexpected shift after all. He could admit easily Mycroft Holmes was an attractive man. Not in the same way the Sherlock had been. Sherlock had the figure and face of a model. Mycroft had a, quieter attractive quality. The way he presented himself, the absolute confidence. Before tonight Greg had wondered if Mycroft was softer underneath. He'd seen a hint of that. He liked it.

“Would tomorrow night be to soon to see each other again?” Mycroft's words broke into his train of thought. Greg chuckled then shook his head.

“Work permitting.” He agreed quietly. Mycroft was blushing just a little bit. “Text me.”

“I'll call.” Mycroft said softly. The car pulled up. Greg daringly leaned in to kiss Mycroft goodnight. He was pleased with the response he got. Fingers on his sleeve tightening, willing returning of the caress. They parted with reluctance. Greg knew he shouldn't stay. Not yet. Mycroft Holmes was not a one night stand. He smiled lightly and moved to get into the car. Unable to resist turning to watch until he couldn't see the man in the doorway any longer. 


	3. Recital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Cancels, Sherlock Returns, and Greg plays an electronic keyboard.  
> Posted under the influence of champagne. I was going to wait and see what happened with the new episode, but decided you guys deserved a treat. :) Happy New Year! May 2014 bring everyone good things.  
> All Mistakes are my own.

Chapter 3 - Performance

Fate conspired against them. The next day found Mycroft calling Greg to make unhappy excuses. It was important though. Sherlock was more important than a budding relationship. He wished rather quietly that he could tell the other man that his little brother was alive. It would make more than his simple excuse about the affairs of state worth while. Greg was understanding though, even if the tone of his voice made it obvious he was disappointed. 

“I will let you know when I am free. I am sorry again...” Mycroft said quietly, glancing at his watch.

“No, I understand. Go save the country. I'll watch for your call.” Greg agreed, Mycroft could imagine a offhand smile twisting the other's lips.

“Until then.” Mycroft made himself hang up. He knew he needed to get moving. Anthea would have Sherlock here in a matter of hours. Things had to be made ready.

Greg sighed as he hung up on the other end. He had figured that work would get in the way. If Sherlock had been believed, Mycroft juggled several hats. It surely made having a relationship difficult. Greg could understand though. It wasn't that rare his hours ran over and kept him at the office or on a scene for much longer than planned. Part of the reason he and his wife hadn't managed to work things out.

John had asked him to meet up for a couple pints. He checked his phone, he hadn't actually responded to the text yet. Shooting off a positive response he checked his email and started to wrap up his paperwork for the day. A few cold ones with John would be good. He wondered if Mary would join. The young woman seemed to be a beacon of light in John Watson's life. He was beyond glad to see John move on. It'd taken, a bit to long really.

John was waiting for him without Mary when he arrived at the pub. He waved at the Doctor and made his way over to the table John had managed to snag for them. “Evening.”

“Hello Greg.” John sat up some, he was smiling. He was relaxed. “How are you?”

“good, good.” Greg settled and accepted the pint that was pushed at him. Round two would be on him then. He took a healthy swallow. “You look pleased.”

“Asked Mary to marry me.” John grinned. Oh lord. Greg chuckled to himself then offered him a hearty grin. “She said yes.”

“John I'm glad. Good for you mate.” Greg nodded and reached over to give his shoulder a squeeze. They settled in to drink and talk a bit. John looked quite happy really, it was good. It was about time. Several hours later Greg headed out of the pub with a light step. He hadn't told John about his possible relationship with Mycroft. He didn't want to open any old wounds. Hopefully by the time the blond doctor found out he'd forgive Greg the secrecy.

A dark car pulled up in front of Greg. He blinked a moment then smiled as the window rolled down to show Mycroft. “Have a moment?”

“For you? I have several.” Greg responded easily. He moved to slide in the moment the door was opened. Settling easily against the seat he started to say something else when his eyes went wide. Seated across from him was a, if possible thinner, harder looking Sherlock Holmes. “What.....”

“Sorry for spoiling your rendezvous with Mycroft.” Sherlock drawled a moment. “I'm alive.”

“Sherlock.” Mycroft sounded a bit worn with the one word. Greg blinked a few times and glanced at him. Tired, strained perhaps. It had been a long day for Mycroft. Longer than he was used to.

“Obviously Sherlock.” Greg murmured looking back at the younger man. “Have you seen John yet?”

“No.” Sherlock looked away from him now. “How is he?”

“...He's getting married.” Greg said quietly. He could see Sherlock tense up. The consulting detective was not himself. He was showing his emotions far to easily. “He's better, it's been a long road for him.”

“Perhaps I shouldn't...”

“You should and you will Sherlock.” Mycroft said quickly. Greg was quietly surprised. There was odd tension between them. Something was going on. He frowned and considered Sherlock for a moment or two. He looked tired, thin, and anxious. Why anxious?

“But if he's..” Sherlock sighed. “Mycroft.”

“He deserves to know, you don't have to tell him everything.” Mycroft's tone was firm, yet soothing. The sort of voice Greg had heard nurses use with particularly stubborn patients. Sherlock glared briefly at Mycroft, obviously aware of what the man was trying to do to him.

“Look Sherlock, he deserves to know you're alive, he'll probably punch you yeah, but then he'll forgive you. Probably ask you to be the best man. You were his best mate after all.” Greg found himself saying. He was quickly pinned under stony grey eyes. He sighed. “Just don't tell him you love him.” 

“of course you take *his* side. And I don't!” Sherlock protested, his cheeks flushed though. He was certainly out of sorts.

“Sherlock, if we can both see it...” Mycroft started but Greg interrupted. He needed to get this out. He'd seen John suffer to much.

“You don't kill yourself for your best Mate Sherlock. Not unless you love them very much.” Greg pointed out with a frown. “For what it's worth, He loved you too.”

“You're just saying that.” Sherlock muttered, looking away now. He looked, sad. Greg wasn't sure what to think of the range of emotions Sherlock had shown just since he'd gotten in the car.

“No Sherlock. I helped him through the worst. Your death, it was almost to much for him Sherlock. Honestly? I think he's still not over it, no matter what face he puts on.” Greg insisted now. He was startled as Mycroft's hand touched his, looking at the older Holmes now he stopped.

“I think that's enough Greg.” Mycroft murmured, he gave a squeeze and didn't pull his hand away. The detective inspector sighed and then turned his hand a bit to hold onto Mycroft's properly.

“Please don't tell me you two are all sappy and honeymoon stage.” Sherlock muttered, eyes flicking to them.

“Afraid so Sherlock. We, uh... well it's only been a day.” Greg found himself grinning lopsidedly at that. Mycroft just shook his head again, but the rest of their ride was quiet. Sherlock refrained from whatever comments were bouncing around his head and all but tore himself out of the vehicle as soon as it stopped outside of 221 Baker.

“Is he going to be all right?” Greg asked quietly, watching the lanky man let himself into the building.

“Yes.” Mycroft twined their fingers together now. “He just needs time to adjust.” 

“Never thought I'd hear that of Sherlock.” Greg mused, he looked at the man next to him. “So, that's why you had to cancel?”

“Unfortunately.” Mycroft smiled quietly. “Would you like to have a nightcap?”

“Come to my place, we'll have tea. It's closer anyway.” Greg prompted. He didn't know why. His place was tiny and not the cleanest. Mycroft would probably hate it. But why have the driver take them all the way to Mycroft's when he'd just have to leave again in an hour. 

“Reasonable.” Mycroft agreed, apparently picking up on his line of thought. The driver was given the address for Greg's small flat not to far from the Yard and they made the trip there quietly. The only contact between them their hands. Once Mycroft produced his phone, nodded at whatever message was on the screen and then tucked it away. “Mrs. Hudson slapped him then hugged him, and he is complaining she's trying to feed him.”

“Oh good.” Greg chuckled. The car came to a stop and the DI took a breath. Moving to get out he had to release his hold on Mycroft. Part of him felt like he was back in secondary, with the first bloke he'd ever been interested in. All nervous and unsure if he might upset him at any time. Mycroft followed easily though, up the three flights of stairs (the lift was broken) to the shabby door that read 33F at the end of the hallway. Greg fished his keys out, unlocking the locks and opening the door. He stepped in and glanced around. Room wasn't as bad as he'd been afraid. “Um, here we are... Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft moved in, looking around, he leaned his umbrella against the coat stand and quietly examined the living area. The foyer opened right into the living room. Greg had a sofa, his music collection and a cd player, a telly and an electric keyboard in the room. The carpet was faded brown stock. He took a breath, hung up his own coat and moved past Mycroft to go into the kitchenette and start tea. He wondered what the man thought of the sparse settings. To his surprise the sound of the keyboard caught his attention. “How in the world can you play on this thing?”

“The same way you do a piano.” Greg called back with a chuckle. He quietly focused on fixing the tea, found a package of biscuits in the cupboard. They hadn't expired. He fixed things onto a tray and brought it out. He was rewarded with the sight of Mycroft playing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” with one hand on the plastic keys.

“This is.. awful.” Mycroft announced, looking up at him. Greg laughed softly and then put the tray down.

“Saves space. Come over and sit. Have some tea.. Hope you like HobNobs, all I have.” Greg waved him over. Mycroft sighed and pressed the power button before moving over to sit, accepting a cup of tea from Greg. Their fingers brushed, eyes met but they both restrained from doing anything about it. Greg settled down with his own cup after a moment, munching briefly on one of the biscuits. Not to stale.

“This is, cosy.” Mycroft said after a bit. Greg chuckled softly and glanced at him.

“It's utter rubbish compared to what you're used to.” He shrugged a bit. Mycroft looked at him for a moment then chuckled himself.

“Yes, it is. But it suits you in a way. Rugged, more independent.” Mycroft took a sip of tea and Greg could see him physically starting to relax. Brushing crumbs off on his trousers the Detective Inspector settled back a bit.

“I think that was a compliment.” He mused. Mycroft smiled a little at him. “The tea all right?”

“Just fine.” Mycroft murmured, sipping a bit more. They both shifted, slowly gravitating towards each other. By the time their cups were empty they were relaxed against each other, fingers gently tangled again. “So can you make that piece of electronics and plastic sound as good as a real piano?”

“mm, I think so. Would you like me to do it for you?” Greg let himself give in and nosed against Mycroft's temple, lips brushing gently. A soft “mm” left the redhead. 

“Please.” He murmured. The government tipped his head back some and for a moment their lips were almost touching. Greg grinned just a little, darting in for a peck of a kiss before moving to get himself up. He placed aside his empty cup and moved over to the keyboard. Pulling it out a little from the wall he settled down on the stool behind it and turned it on. Mycroft watched his every move. Greg smiled, and decided to start simply. The simple tones of Bach's “Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring” were coaxed from the plastic keys. Oh it would never be as good as a real piano, a slightly electronic quality to the tones, but Greg could pretend. He was very familiar with the action of the plastic keys. He picked this because it would get him warmed up, remind him of how to press them to get the tones he wanted. His eyes flicked to Mycroft, the man was watching him, or rather watching his hands. 

Greg grinned a little now. He let the first song slow and come to it's natural conclusion. Mycroft was still watching his hands, it was rather thrilling. He shifted them and started the opening cords to “Let it Be” by the Beatles. To his delight, Mycroft's eyebrow rise quickly. Eyes darting up to meet his for a moment. Greg winked impulsively and moved on to play the song, it was much more difficult than the first piece. Mycroft's eyes dropped back to his hands. Greg had never known that to be embarrassing before, but he felt a blush creeping up onto his cheeks. He finished the song a little slowly, savoring the last few cords.

“I am suitably impressed.” Mycroft announced softly. Their eyes met again. Greg grinned and then shifted, stretching a little bit. “I suppose I should let you rest.”

“Yeah, Gotta work in the morning.” Greg got up from the keyboard and moved over. He offered his hand to Mycroft. The other man took it slowly and let himself be pulled to his feet. Greg leaned in to kiss him briefly. “Liked the song?”

“mm yes, I like everything you play.” Mycroft murmured, he returned the kiss briefly, his fingers automatically tightening on Greg's. It was nice. He'd not had a person who was so interested in his playing in ages. “It is a shame I'll never get to hear you perform professionally.”

“Awe, I'm not that good.” Greg protested, feeling his cheeks heat up. Mycroft smiled softly and shook his head.

“You are.” He reluctantly stepped back. Greg let go slowly. “I must go.”

“Lemme see you to the door.” Greg murmured, then moved to show him out. They shared one more lingering kiss. Mycroft refused to let Greg see him down the stairs. Greg sighed and moved back into his apartment. He moved back into the apartment and settled at the keyboard. He needed to sort his feelings out. The only way he knew how.


	4. Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea makes some threats, Greg plays in public.

Chapter 4 - Instinct

It was three weeks before they saw each other again. John had been trying to ignore that Sherlock was back. Mycroft had been in the middle of an important investigation. Greg was a little disappointed. They'd talked on the phone a few times. One time he'd heard other voices when he called and Mycroft had made an excuse about his parents visiting. John had mentioned Sherlock's parents as well. It seemed they were most normal.

Finally though they were getting to meet again. Mycroft had texted a time and told him to be waiting outside for a car. He was anxious. He was relatively sure he was falling for the other man. He had no, real idea how Mycroft felt. Their shared kisses had been gentle and few. Was this to fast? To slow?

The car pulled up, but to Greg's disappointment the other man was not inside. He was greeted by the quiet smile of Anthea. He thought that was the name she'd given. She quietly shot off a message on her blackberry.

“Ah, no Mycroft?”

“He will be meeting you at our destination.” She informed without glancing up. Greg sighed and glanced out the window. Perhaps he could sort where they were headed without asking.

“He's not planning to have me killed or something is he?” He managed wryly. A sideways glance saw that he'd managed to get an actual amused smile out of the woman, instead of her usual painted on smile.

“Hardly, Detective Inspector.” Anthea actually glanced up from her blackberry now. Greg blinked as he saw he was being considered quite seriously. “Mr. Holmes, rarely does anything for his own pleasure.”

“Ah, I sort of gathered that.” Greg shifted some, letting himself look at her properly now.

“Something about you, makes him happy.” Anthea paused. “It does, cause a few complications. However, I believe this could be worth it. Depending on you.”

“Are you... uh, giving me the “don't break his heart” speech?” Greg asked slowly. He was rewarded with an additional quirk of the corner of her lips. As if the woman was trying not to laugh at him. “Isn't that Sherlock's job?”

“Mr. Holmes the younger is, dealing with his own troubles. I thought I would, intercede. It is in my best interest after all that Mr. Holmes remain, happy. Safe, and focused on what he needs to do.” Anthea mused.

“He caused those troubles for himself.” Greg pointed out then he simply relaxed back in his seat. “I've no intention of breaking Mycroft's heart. I rather like him.”

“Would you say, you'd do anything for him?” Anthea asked now. It must be some sort of record as to how long she'd been watching him and not her blackberry.

“Ah, well within reason.” He responded slowly. Not sure what to think about what that question implied.

“Noted.” Anthea smiled then looked down. “We're to our destination. Do have a pleasant evening Detective Inspector Lestrade.” Greg nodded to her. There was no need to return the polite statement. He slowly moved to get out. Curiously, they were outside the Amaryllis Fleming Concert Hall, at the Royal College of Music. It seemed, a student performance was tonight. Greg nervously fixed his jacket, feeling a touch underdressed as he made his way into the building. Mycroft was just inside, waiting for him, leaning on his umbrella as if all the world could wait.

“Gregory. Perfect timing.” Mcyroft straightened up and smiled lightly at him. Greg couldn't help smiling back. “If you follow me our seats are reserved.”

“I feel a bit underdressed.” Greg murmured. Mycroft chuckled softly then actually winked at him.

“You're with me, It's fine.” With that Mycroft moved to lead him up to the front of the seats. He actually was unsurprised by this. They had a perfect view of the piano, he'd be able to easily watch the students technique as they performed. Mycroft had done this for him. He settled in his seat and dared to look at the other man. Mycroft gave him an easy smile and seemed to, relax just a bit.

“This is brillant...” He paused, he knew the performance hadn't even started for the night but, it was special.

“I thought it would be something we'd both enjoy. I still have hopes of seeing you preform like this you know.” Mycroft's voice was, teasing. Lightly. A hint of hope. Greg found himself blushing. He really wasn't as good as the students here. He'd never hope to hold a candle to them. He tried to focus as the house lights dimmed and things got underway. They listened to the music. Greg eagerly found himself watching the technique of each of the students who played.

“That was fantastic. Mycroft, thank you.” Greg turned a big grin on him as they waited for much of the other attendees to leave.

“I'd like you to play up there.” Mycroft said quietly. Greg flushed, he glanced at the now quiet piano. Part of him did want to preform up there. To have a group applaud for him like they had tonight for the students.

“Mycroft I....” He blinked as the man caught his hand and squeezed it. “Any requests?”

“Tchaikovsky would be nice.” Mycroft murmured, letting go of his hand just as quickly as he'd picked it up. Greg paused, waiting for the other people to head out. He took a breath. “You won't get in trouble. I promise.”

“I hope not, with you here.” Greg grinned for a moment, then he quietly moved to take a seat at the piano. For a few moment's he sat quietly, considering the keys, the pitch of the room, the way the piano was positioned. Focusing himself. He chose something that was and old friend, “Barcaolle” from the set of pieces called the Seasons. It was fun, it was light, and he remembered enjoying learning to play it. His fingers lightly moved over the keys with soft joy. He let himself sink into playing. He played through it, then switched to playing something else without another thought. When he finished though, more than just Mycroft's hands were clapping. Glancing up, Greg found himself blushing. About half a dozen patrons had remained behind when he started playing it seemed.

“Very lovely Gregory.” Mycroft murmured, smiling at him. Greg couldn't help ending the moment by sticking his tongue out childishly. He got up though and gave a polite bow to the others who were still in the room. Someone laughed and they moved to leave. He made his way back down to Mycroft's side.

“You are a horrible influence.” Greg murmured, he let himself reach out and grab Mycroft's free hand. The other was holding his ever present umbrella easily. “And now you owe me a drink.”

“Nerves?” Mycroft mused, he turned easily to walk out, not letting go of Greg's hand. So the man didn't mind if other saw them? Greg found he was relaxed by that. Their fingers had laced easily, hands fitting together as if they were meant to be. The car was waiting for them out front. If they had delayed the trip any it wasn't obvious.

“I don't play in public if I haven't been drinking.” Greg mused as he slid into the car. Mycroft settled in next to him and took his hand up again, letting it rest against his thigh.

“Is that so? Explains why you know so many drinking songs.” He teased quietly. Greg blushed and just let himself lean against the politician. Mycroft was a good man. He found he didn't mind that he'd been coaxed into performing like that.

“I suppose.” He agreed quietly, he couldn't help focusing on the warmth of Mycroft's thigh.

“I'd like it if you came to my place tonight...” Mycroft said softly. Greg glanced at him, there was a blush darkening the other man's cheeks. It made his freckles a little less obvious.

“I'd like that.” Greg agreed quietly. He felt Mycroft shift, and then the man's head rested gently against his shoulder. He couldn't help a smile. This was good. Whatever it was. They'd have to talk about it, but not right now.


	5. Fortissimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft invites Greg over. Their relationship takes the next step. It's about time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. Between the series airing and work the muses have been difficult. All mistakes my own

Chapter 5 - Fortissimo

Greg had seen Mycroft's home several times since they had started seeing each other. He let himself be lead inside, surprised when Mycroft bypassed the living room and den. The other man paused briefly at the bottom of the stairs to glance at him. “Come up.”

“You invited me over.” Greg murmured encouragingly. Mycroft flushed some and squeezed his hand, it was easy to follow him up the stairs. Mycroft pulled him into a bedroom. A clean, but warm bedroom. There were touches of Mycroft. The four poster bed was made, a book on the bedside, a pair of reading glasses.

“You have reading glasses?” Greg couldn't help asking.

“Yes, to my everlasting shame.” Mycroft murmured with a soft laugh. Greg moved closer and leaned in to kiss gently, hand cupping Mycroft's cheek easily. This had been on his mind for a bit now. The fact that he wanted Mycroft. He found himself pulled a bit closer, those lovely hands moving to rest under his jacket against his chest. 

“I bet you look sexy in them.” Greg murmured against his lips, letting his own trail slowly to his jaw. Mycroft shivered under his touch.

“Hardly..” He murmured in soft protest. Greg chuckled and pulled back, looking at him. “Gregory...”

“Put them on, for me?” He asked softly, fingers finding Mycroft's under his jacket. Mycroft squeezed back and then with a sigh stepped back, tugging gently.

“If you insist.” He agreed quietly. Greg grinned and shrugged out of his jacket, laying it gently on a chair as he watched Mycroft move over and pick up the glasses. Secretly he couldn't have ever helped wondering what Mycroft would look like with them. The thin wire frames were opened and settled onto his face.

“Perfect.” He murmured softly, watching Mycroft. The other man flushed some. Greg hmmed softly and moved over to him now, reaching out to run a hand up his arm, feeling the fabric of his suit jacket briefly. “You are, perfect...”

“Hardly” Mycroft protested softly, ducking his head. “I'm overworked, overweight, and I don't... I don't do emotions and relationships.”

“Overworked I'll agree with. You are not overweight. I had warning about the rest.” Greg gently cupped his chin now and made him look back up. “And here we are, this is emotions and relationships.” He coaxed. “You're doing just fine.”

“I haven't... I don't, do this sort of thing.” Mycroft actually looked, nervous. Greg let his fingers brush along his cheek a moment.

“I've been warned.” Greg tilted his head. “Anthea will likely castrate me if I hurt you.” He leaned in and kissed him gently. Mycroft was kissing him back with a chuckle, he could feel the other's amusement. “Let me?” He murmured, fingers resting lightly on the pocket watch clasped to his waistcoat.

“All, right.” Mycroft murmured and Greg felt himself being watched closely as he gently unfastened it and put it aside. Hands slowly moved to gently ease the jacket from Mycroft's shoulders. He couldn't help a grin at the sleeve garters. It was more than obvious Mycroft's shirts were properly fitted, there was no need for them. He gently tossed the jacket over his own. He noticed the faint twitch from Mycroft.

“It can get hung up later Mycroft.” He murmured gently, soothingly. The flush returned to Mycroft's cheeks. Greg let his hands easily slide up to catch the garters, tugging them down. “I've dreamed of undressing you. I'm not going to let you interrupt it by hanging things up.”

“Horrible man.” Mycroft's voice was teasing. He shifted to claim another kiss. Greg allowed it, letting the garters fall from his fingers, hands moving to unbutton the waistcoat now. The buttons were pearl to offset the tan fabric and slipped easily from the fabric with his coaxing. Greg let his fingers slide up, tugging gently at the silk tie around Mycroft's neck, loosening it. His mouth had moved to gently worry Mycroft's ear. “Relax Mycroft.” He murmured softly.

“It is... Not so simple for me.” Mycroft's response was quiet, Greg frowned a bit and pulled back to look at him. “I'm sorry.”

“Mycroft? What is it?” Brown eyes searched quietly, trying to catch any understanding of what was going on with his boyfriend. 

“If we do this, if we, get this involved. You'll be in danger.” Mycroft admitted quietly. Greg blinked, understanding flooded through him. He'd seen how Mycroft pulled strings. He was often doing things that were likely quite dangerous. He shifted, then nudged Mycroft to sit on the edge of the bed. Setting next to him he let an arm go around the thin form.

“I'm in danger at work. So add the danger of.. what, being kidnapped and held against you? I can handle that Mycroft. I've had plenty of time to think about things before this. I know what I'm doing. I want the risks. I want you.”

“Gregory it's not the same.” Mycroft started then sighed. “I don't ever want to see you hurt because of me.”

“And I don't want to see you hurt either.” Greg shifted and kissed him gently. “Don't think I'd just stand by and be helpless.”

“That is what concerns me.” Mycroft started. Greg gently pushed him down onto the bed now and leaned over him.

“You always need to be in control don't you.” Greg tugged his tie off. “Perhaps later I'll show you how good not being in control can be.”

“Later?” Mycroft blinked at him, hand moving to touch his cheek, then shifting fingers into his hair. “And now?”

“Now I'm going to show you exactly how much you mean to me.” Greg murmured, then moved to press a kiss to his throat. Mycroft shivered, then sighed and nodded briefly. Greg grinned softly and moved to work at the shirt he was still wearing. Mycroft shifted enough to help him remove it. His eyes drug over the lovely pale skin he had bared. “Freckles.” He murmured, leaning down to pepper a few kisses. Mycroft squirmed at that, a giggle leaving him.

“Gregory!” He protested somewhat. Greg lifted his head with a grin. “I'll memorize them all.” He promised with a murmur. This made Mycroft flush again. Greg couldn't help dropping another kiss before he slid his hands gently down to the belt at Mycroft's waist. How the man thought he was fat he never quite had understood, but perhaps Mycroft would tell him the story one day.

For now he wanted to focus on other things, like the feeling of soft skin. He wanted to see how Mycroft looked properly aroused and in need of his touch. Nimbly fingers unbuckled the belt, and unfastened the button at the top of the light trousers. Mycroft shifted some, Greg glanced up in time to catch a hand moving to brush lightly through his hair. Focus, Mycroft needed a focus. “Touch away My...” 

“I hate it when peope shorten my name.” Mycroft mused. Greg laughed softly. “But, it sounds different when you do.”

“They call you Mike?” He murmured, gently pressing a kiss against Mycroft's soft stomach. There were light lines, the sort that told him once the skin had been stretched further. He carefully tugged the zip, wanting to part the fabric and see what was hidden underneath.

“Mmhmm.” Mycroft's fingers brushed over his ear, and down the side of his neck. Greg let himself slide up and stole a gentle kiss, distracting a moment as his hand pushed under the fabric to brush against, surprisingly cotton pants. He felt Mycroft twitch under the fabric and grinned to himself. “Well I like My.”

“Sounds...” Mycroft's breath caught as Greg gently pressed his palm down, grinding lightly with it. “Po...possessive...”

“Yeah, it is. But I don't think I'll be sharing you with anyone else now will I?” Greg brushed kisses along his jaw. He let his hand move to work under Mycroft's pants now, he wanted to touch, needed to.

“No. Well, work, but...” Mycroft made a bit of a whimpering noise as flesh came into contact. “Gregory...”

“mmm?” Greg hummed against his pulse, licking it briefly. Fingers curled around firmed flesh. Mycroft was all but vibrating under his touch. He wondered when the last time the man had indulged in, company had been.

“Please.....” Mycroft couldn't seem to say more than that. He liked that though. Greg shifted back to look at the flushed face, the way Mycroft's eyes were half closed, his lips parted, tongue flicking out from time to time. It was perfect. His fingers worked slowly, teasing really. He could feel pre-come smearing against his skin. Mycroft shifted, hips lifting closer to his touch, his boyfriend needed more. It was obvious.

Greg moved to pull his hand away, he couldn't help a grin at the needy whimper and the way Mycroft shifted, eyes opening to look at him. He moved his hands to quickly pull the remaining fabric from Mycroft's hips. Taking advantage of how they lifted when his hand moved away. Eager for contact. Mycroft realized what he was doing and shifted, allowing trousers and pants to slide down and get somewhat kicked off the bed. Greg drug his eyes up, chuckling at the trousers socks reaching most of the way up Mycroft's calf. “mm you certainly dress completely don't you.”

“Eh?” Mycroft looked confused for a moment and then groaned as Greg leaned down and kissed where his sock stopped covering skin. “Should... see me in a tux..”

“Do you wear those silly things to keep your stockings up?” Greg chuckled against his skin. Fingers curling under the fabric to pull it down.

“mm yes..They are practical.” Mycroft managed to protest. He couldn't believe how much the feeling of Greg's lips following the fabric down his skin was turning him on. Greg pulled one sock off, then the other, giving that leg the same treatment he had the first before he moved up to claim Mycroft's mouth in a deep kiss.

“Dressed still.” Mycroft protested at the feeling of Greg's clothing against his skin. Greg laughed softly against his mouth. It was much easier to undress himself. He pulled back and looked Mycroft over.

“Don't move.” Greg grinned at the way Mycroft blinked at him, and then pulled back and started to unbutton the shift he was wearing quickly, He took the opportunity to just watch Mycroft as he shed his own layers. Shirt and undershirt on the floor, Trousers and pants quickly landed in a messy lump as well and he toed out of his socks, enjoying the way Mycroft seemed to be memorizing him with just his eyes.

“Perfect..” Mycroft murmured, eyes raking over him again. Greg flushed some at that. He didn't feel as much. He wasn't the six pack, well muscled football player any more. He had a bit of a paunch from the doughnuts and long days at the desk. He'd meant to work out more, and even did run some days when he wasn't working, but he was nothing like he'd been in secondary and uni. He moved to crawl back over Mycroft.

“Like this, you should have seen me in Uni.” He murmured, catching Mycroft's lips in another kiss. The politician kissed him back easily now, hands brushed over his sides, one going across his back, pulling them flush. Greg wasn't sure who moaned, but he automatically rocked down against the other man. He needed more now. It had been a slow build for them both, and now, now was the climax.

Mycroft's fingers dug into his hip, Greg bit his lower lip and then shifted to grab one long leg and pull it up. He wanted more contact. He wanted inside Mycroft. He needed it. Mycroft moaned against his mouth and his leg easily shifted, hooking around him now, pulling them closer, their pricks rubbed together pressing, delicious waves of pleasure rocking through them.

“I need you.” Greg breathed. “Lube...” He groaned, reluctant to pull back but he knew he needed to. Mycroft blinked, then twisted some, reaching with his hand to grab at the drawer on the stand next to the bed. Greg chuckled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, letting the man fumble it open and then reaching in himself to find a bottle. It was partly used. Mycroft obviously was human in his behaviors. Greg shifted to kneel between Mycroft's legs now, nudging them a bit more apart.

“Do you... should I turn over?” Mycroft asked slowly. Greg hmmed a bit, then stroked fingers along his thigh and shook his head.

“Not right now. Want to see your gorgeous face.” He murmured, flipping the lid open on the lube he poured it into his hand and made sure to coat his fingers good, leaning in to kiss Mycroft once more he let his fingers rub slowly, sliding between those lovely long legs and pressing in oh so slightly. Mycroft whimpered, hips rocking quickly at that. Sensitive. He loved it. Greg could feel the muscles trembling, he coaxed the finger in, groaning softly himself as he felt how they shifted around his finger. Mycroft made an odd noise, it was good. He nipped at him, working the finger a little slowly.

“Gregory!” Mycroft whimpered against his mouth. “Please....” Greg wanted to tease him further, but he was aware of how much he'd already teased since they'd entered the room and instead carefully pushed another finger into the warm muscles. He wanted to get Mycroft ready as quickly as he dared. The other man was only encouraging the hurried motions, shifting under his touch and making delicious noises. Mycroft obviously did not often have others to touch him. It was beautiful to make him squirm. Greg hurried to get him ready though, nibbling and licking at the man's chest playfully while he tries to make this right.

“Condom?” He found himself asking. Mycroft seemed to hesitate, he didn't blame him if he said yes though. “It's fine, we can get tested together later and all..”

“Yes.” Mycroft said softly, his eyes betrayed his relief that Greg didn't seem bothered. He pulled back to reach into the drawer, knowing the older Holmes there was certainly one in there. He was rewarded with a foil.

“You get yourself turned over and comfortable.” Greg murmured as he shifted to the side, tearing at the small package quickly now. Mycroft shivered but shifted, his body rolling over, a pillow getting moved into a good spot. Greg paused watching him, feeling his own cock twitch a little at the motion of the muscles under Mycroft's skin. “God you're gorgeous.” He breathed. Mycroft shifted to look at him, cheeks already flushed, but ears now pinking more. Greg quickly worked the latex down around himself, stroking a few times to take the edge off. He didn't want to cause a problem at this point, he moved over Mycroft now, leaning down to kiss him briefly, not wanting him to strain his neck. Hands gently gripped onto those lovely pale hips and he moved to kiss his shoulder, then his spine.

“Gregory...” Mycroft whined softly. That was what he needed, that one word, the tone telling him the other was more than ready. Greg moved one hand to make sure he didn't lose the condom and with a snap of his hips pushed into the tight warmth he'd been fingering minutes ago. The strangled gasp leaving Mycroft was glorious. He rolled his hips again, pushing himself in until they were pressed so tightly together that he didn't want to pull back. “Greg.....” Mycroft gasped again, he was trembling. It was good though. There wasn't the whimper of a man who wanted to stop, just one that wanted more. More he was happy to give.

It wasn't long for either of them, Greg had moved to give Mycroft some strokes, coaxing and kept rolling his hips now that he'd started. Mycroft made a lovely noise as he came, a keening that was his name and a sound of pure enjoyment. Greg let himself follow, enjoying the sensation of the squeezing muscles and how Mycroft felt under him. For a moment, time stood still, then Mycroft whimpered again, shifting. Greg couldn't hold himself up so he, reluctantly pulled away to flop on his side, moving to pull off the condom. “God My...”

“Mm not God.” was the chuckled response, the slighter man shifting to nose his shoulder some. Greg hoped he'd managed to hit the small trash with the condom because he was far to busy kissing Mycroft now, arms moving to pull the other man against him. They settled slowly, Mycroft's head was on his chest. Greg had one arm around him, the other across his eyes.

“I do hope we'll repeat that later.” Mycroft murmured sleepily. Greg chuckled softly and his arm tightened a little.

“I think we can arrange that.” He mused softly. For a man who was afraid of emotions and relationships, he really was doing very well. Greg hoped they could continue progressing. After all, a little practice couldn't hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow build then little actual sex. It wouldn't write. I had to much fun undressing Mycroft. I hope you all enjoyed. :)


End file.
